From the Alps

Greetings from Arcadia,

There’s something about being home again. It’s like putting on your favorite pair of jeans, it wraps you in comfort and the knowledge that you’re ok. The sweetness of returning home after time away is multiplied exponentially when you’ve been traveling alone for most of that time.

It’s been a month since I returned from my European adventures (Part 1), and I’ve been happily ensconced in comfort, family, and about 98 degrees of desert heat. Something about summer…it makes it anything beyond a hammock and glass of lemonade seem like an ultramarathon. Beside the fact that we had guests for two of the four weeks I was home, I also celebrated my 30th birthday and my 5th wedding anniversary with Dan the Man. While this has been good for my mental state, it’s been bad for my blog. You have my sincere apologies for the delinquency of this post about my time in the Alps.

I’m sure I’m not the first to observe that each person has a certain type of landscape that speaks to their soul and fills them with joy, peace, and all that good stuff. For some it’s the crashing waves on the sea, or a toes-in-the-sand beach, for others it’s the haunting emptiness of the desert, and other people find happiness in the whispers of towering trees and the cool shadows of forests. For my money, give me a beautiful sunlit field of flowers, or rolling hills of green, and I’m a happy girl. This may be the most Midwestern thing about me. And, this is most definitely one of the many reasons I love Ireland so much, a land of rolling hills and green fields. I am happy in wide open spaces, but I love mountains almost as much. So, Switzerland…a magical land filled with the most idyllic grassy meadows covered in a riot of wildflowers, set at the foot of undeniably the most beautiful mountains in the world…plus really good cheese. I could be convinced to sell my soul to the devil, in exchange for a Swiss visa. Would that it twere so simple.

I drove through France, and popped into Switzerland ready to see the Alps at long last. My first stop was in the little village of Frutigen, in the Bernese Oberland. Idyllic doesn’t seem like a strong enough word to describe this area of the country. The villages are so cloyingly quaint, clean and charming that you can’t come out without the Swissness rubbing off on you. Even the livestock are in on the act; driving by a beautiful meadow of buttery-colored cows, you hear the gentle tinkle of the bells they wear around their necks and you begin to understand how these pampered, musical animals produce some of the best cheese in the world. More than any other beautiful place I’ve seen so far, Switzerland’s beauty feels carefully curated, planned, and executed flawlessly by the meticulous Swiss.

I started exploring via a bike tour of the Lauterbrunnen Valley, led by a British expat named Harry, and I was joined by an American couple, Tom and Adelle, and a Canadian doctor named Gary. We cycled from the adventure capital of Switzerland, Interlaken (where people come to do crazy things like base jumping, paragliding, and other things that involve flinging yourself off a mountain) up through the valley to the very touristy town of Lauterbrunnen. Harry stopped to pick up supplies for our lunch, then we were off to bike through one of the most stunning valleys I’ve ever seen. Misty waterfalls tumble down the cliff faces, and the water is so clean, you can drink from the fountains that are stationed all over (which is not recommended in most places in the world). But trust the Swiss to have everything planned to perfection.

Despite the hordes of tourists in the valley, I enjoyed the wind in my face and the incredible views as we wound our way along the roads and trails, through fields of flowers and past cozy chalets. We stopped alongside a green river to have a picnic lunch, then made our way to Trummelbach Falls. It’s hard to describe Trummelbach Falls, but try to imagine going deep inside a mountain and finding a torrential waterfall roaring its way through the rock. The elevator shaft takes you up almost to the top, then you make your way down, stopping to peek over the railing and marvel at the immense power of the water, carving its way through solid rock and creating fascinating shapes as it does so. After the bike ride through the warm, sunny valley I was ready to cool down, and Trummelbach took care of that in short order. The glacial water coated me with a heavy mist, and the wintry air inside the mountain chilled me to the bone.

We reemerged and got on our bikes again to thaw out and slowly make our way back toward Interlaken. My fellow biker, Tom, kept me amused by his constant guttural exclamations of joy at every beautiful scene we passed, crying “Oh, YEAH!” as the landscape unfolded before us. I learned some fascinating things about Switzerland, including the fact that they apparently live in fear of being invaded, and (allegedly, according to Harry) have all the tunnels into the country wired up to dynamite to blow the passages to block invaders should the need arise. When asked why the Swiss are so worried about people invading their beloved country (I imagined that some people from a sad, flat country, like Nebraska, say, might decide to come take the beautiful mountains and valleys by force), Harry reminded me that it can all be summed up in one word – gold. Swiss banks are full of it, and apparently they take the guarding of it quite seriously. There are bunkers in almost every valley to serve as fallout shelters in case of war or other nuclear disaster. Every able-bodied Swiss male must serve in the army for a set period. For being a neutral nation, the Swiss are incredibly prepared for war. Go figure. I also learned that because of the historical isolation of the inhabitants of the valleys between each set of mountains, slightly different dialects have developed over time and are particular to the people of each valley. Fascinating, but it was time to get home after a long day. We wrapped up the trip by indulging in some Swiss chocolate brownies before heading back to Interlaken.

The next day I had my first experience in a gondola, conveying me up the side of the mountain from Kandersteg to a point above the beautiful alpine lake, Oeschinensee. Gondolas are not meant for those with a fear of heights, as they are intended for you to see as much as possible, including the distance to the ground below. I mostly conquered this fear during my many gondola rides, but every time they swayed in the wind, I had to close my eyes and think of England. I hiked around the lake, listening to music and enjoying the sharp smell of warm pine sap and passing by waterfalls around every corner.

The color of the green glacial water was so beautiful I wanted to see it up close, so the following day I kayaked the incomparable Lake Brienz, near Interlaken. Have you ever had the urge to paddle through liquified turquoise? I hadn’t until that day, but now I know how singularly strange and incredible it feels to float in water that looks like a glittering jewel. Little flecks of pollen floating on the water looked like specks of gold set in turquoise. The water was so opaquely green that it really felt more like I was dipping my paddle in liquid gemstone than water. Did I mention that Switzerland is a magical place?

My earliest memory of longing to see a place that was far away from home is courtesy of the great Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. In The Final Problem, Sherlock Holmes meets his supposed end vanquishing Professor Moriarty at Reichenbach Falls. I remember imagining waterfalls and realizing that I’d never seen one in real life, and wondering what Reichenbach Falls would look like as you peered over the edge where Sherlock came tumbling down. I’m not sure how old I was then, but there are a lot of years separating the book nerd I was then and the one I am now. So, after all that time, and countless other stories that made me hunger to see the world, yours truly finally got the chance to peer over the edge of that Reichenbach abyss. I almost feel bad that Sherlock is fictional and never got to see the view from the top.

Whilst I was in Meiringen to see Reichenbach, I stopped by the Aare Gorge to take a walk through a beautiful (and mercifully cool, on a hot day) tunnel that runs along the edge of the Aare River.

On my last day in the Bernese Oberland region of Switzerland, I returned to the idyllic Lauterbrunnen Valley and rode a gondola to the Bavarian village of Gimmelwald, where the wildflowers blanketed the hills around the little chalets, and the hills were alive, so to speak. With the sound of cowbells and the zinging sound of the gondola rushing up and down overhead. I made the mistake of not scoping out a good hiking path before I rode up the mountain…and instead of riding past the village up to Mürren and walking down into Gimmelwald, which is the usual route people take, I did the opposite and walked up to Mürren from Gimmelwald, huffing up the steep hillside along a road that zigged and zagged all the way up. Sometimes spontaneity doesn’t pay, kids. But the views…worth every drop of sweat.

After leaving Frutigen, I made my way to my next housesit in Verbier, in Southwest Switzerland. If the mountains around Lauterbrunnen were impressive, the country was saving the best for last. The jagged peaks around Verbier were somehow more wild and beautifully remote than any I had seen, outside of the wilds of Patagonia. Verbier also happens to be one of the premiere ski towns in the Alps, and plays host to the rich, royal, and glamorous from all over the world. So, this is where I met King Arthur and Prince Albert. Arthur and Albert are living the most ideal life possible for a two young men with an adventurous spirit and boundless energy. I had the privilege of escorting them around the hills surrounding Verbier, watching as they ran the hillsides, splashed in streams, and chased chirping marmots. They wreaked havoc on the backseat of my little Citroën, but they were filled with such sheer doggy joy and energy, that it was hard to deny them one more hike…or maybe just one more.

My fantastic host Jeni showed me all her favorite hiking spots before she left, and on our first trip up into the hills, we got out of the car and found ourselves face to face with a piece of pure Switzerland. A gentleman had perched himself on the edge of a hill with a giant alpenhorn, and was playing surprisingly intricate music silhouetted against the majestic Alps, it seemed almost like the moment was carefully calibrated by those crafty Swiss to be perfectly, stereotypically Switzerland.

After spending five days hiking with my Golden Boys, I said yet another sad goodbye (one downside of pet sitting in exotic locales – you get attached and then have to say goodbye too soon) not only to Arthur, Albert and Jeni, but also to Switzerland. I drove through mountain tunnel after mountain tunnel (these people know the shortest way to get from one side of a mountain to another) into Austria. The village of Götzens, just outside Innsbruck was my destination. This charming city, situated in a valley astride the river Inn, is filled with cheerfully colored old homes, the old Imperial palace, and stately mansions like the Schloss Ambras, which houses a collection of very old, and slightly terrifying portraits of long-dead Austrian royalty.

After wandering in and around Innsbruck, including riding a series of gondolas up to a peak above the valley (then hiking along a cliff path above the valley), I was ready to head to my final destination for this leg of the trip, Munich. But first, a stop into one of Germany’s biggest tourist attractions – Neuschwanstein Castle. This place was positively swarming with tourists from every corner of the globe. The tours are conducted with little remotes they hand out to each person, so you can hear the voice of the tour guide coming through the speakers on the handheld device, since they shepherd people through the castle in massive groups. It was ornately beautiful inside, including a Middle Eastern style tile ceiling that I wish with all my heart I could have taken a picture of. Unfortunately, photography was prohibited on the tour.

And finally, Munich. I genuinely still don’t know what to say or even think about Munich. It’s sort of an odd city. I can’t put my finger on exactly why it feels that way, but suffice it to say that once you’ve seen the weird Glockenspiel clock tower show, you start to get a sense that this place is not…usual. So, after a bike tour of the city with a charming Irish guide, watched people surfing on a river, biergartens with humongous Chinese pagodas, naked old dudes sunbathing in the city park, beautiful buildings, an accordian player in a unicorn mask serenading us with “Despacito,” a museum filled with masterpieces, and getting caught in the heaviest downpour I’ve seen outside of Vietnam, I was ready to call a wrap on part one of my European adventures and head HOME, after more than two months away.

I’m on the eve of heading back out again for an even longer venture, almost three months on the road from now until early October. I’m starting in Scotland and ending in Iceland, and seeing some amazing places in between. Thanks for sticking with me along the way as I find arcadia, one country at a time.

Road weary but happy,

Sarah